


Boys Like You Try Too Hard

by bcole4



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Implied/Referenced Cheating, Love, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Touring, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:57:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcole4/pseuds/bcole4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touring is hard. Especially when you're in love with Pete Wentz.</p><p>Maybe love isn't enough. Or maybe, when you least expect it, it's more than enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys Like You Try Too Hard

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, I like the beginning better than the end. Girlfriends/wives of all the characters don't exist for the purpose of this story. None of this is real, I don't own any of it, you know the drill. Title from The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Tours are always hard. Especially when you’re in love with Pete Wentz.  
  
Not that Pete doesn’t want Patrick. That’s obvious enough based on the nights they spend together, nights like some intense dream. Patrick liked it better when they were on hiatus, when he was in Pete’s bed or Pete was in his, when it felt almost like a proper relationship and the other guys Pete fucked weren’t made glaringly obvious to Patrick. Hotels and tour bus bunks make it feel just as cheap as it actually is, but Patrick will take Pete however he can get him.  
  
Tonight’s going well. Patrick’s singing really well and every time he sings a note in falsetto Pete’s on him, leaning into him as he plays, his breath hot on Patrick’s neck, and Patrick knows what’s going to happen after the show. He briefly wonders where it’s going to happen, but the screams of fans pull him back to the show.  
  
It takes about fifteen minutes after they get to the hotel for the knock on the door that Patrick knows is coming, the knock he’s been waiting for. He gets off the already unmade bed and opens the door to Pete, who changed into tight jeans and a white tee shirt after the show, an outfit which frankly makes Patrick hard immediately upon seeing him. Pete barely breathes out a “Trick” before pushing his way into the room and kissing Patrick roughly, and this is the great part of their meet-ups, when he can taste how much Pete wants him under the alcohol and tobacco on his tongue. He tangles his fingers in Pete’s hair as Pete pushes his tongue into his mouth, and Patrick just wants to be like this forever.  
  
He pulls Pete to the bed, his mouth moving perfectly on Pete’s, and as he falls onto the bed and Pete pulls away only to breathe deeply, crawling on top of him, Patrick knows he loves Pete. He wants to tell him, but he just… can’t.  
  
“Shit, that _mouth_ ,” Pete practically groans as he leans down to meet Patrick’s neck with his lips. “You make me _insane_ , Patrick, you have no clue…”  
  
“God, Pete, you’re amazing,” is Patrick’s reply. He’s so bad at talking in bed. It always comes out too romantic and not hot enough. He’s embarrassed and wants Pete’s mouth on his again so he doesn’t feel like he has to say anything.  
  
His silent prayer is answered when Pete messily, harshly, kisses him again. He pulls off his own shirt quickly and then unbuttons Patrick’s, kissing his chest after every button. Patrick grabs the back of Pete’s head, shivering. Pete is fast and sloppy, and Patrick is just waiting for…  
  
 _Oh._ There it is.  
  
He moans loudly as Pete bites down on his torso, just above his hipbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark for a week. Pete likes Patrick’s response and bites hard in a few places along the waistline of his jeans, and it takes everything Patrick has not to yell out. This is something Patrick expected. Pete loves to leave marks wherever he can on Patrick. It has something to do with ownership, with the fact that even though Pete won’t commit, he wants anyone Patrick may bring back to his room to know that that Patrick is _all Pete’s_. It may be a little weird, but it gets Patrick off and that’s all that matters.  
  
Patrick sits up to pull his shirt off his shoulders and throw his hat on the ground as Pete tugs Patrick’s jeans off of him, not bothering with the fly. Pete leans in to kiss Patrick, and as he palms Patrick’s erection through the thin fabric of his boxers, Patrick’s hips buck slightly. He’s never been good at hiding how much he wants Pete, but Pete never seems to mind.  
  
Pete pulls at the waistband of Patrick’s boxers, pulling away to smile down at Patrick, his eyes dark. Patrick lets his fingers glide along the tattoo across Pate’s collarbone, then trail down to the button on Pete’s jeans. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he whispers, his voice huskier than he thought it would be, as he starts to mess with Pete’s fly.  
  
“You too,” Pete says, and he practically rips Patrick’s boxers off of him. He wraps his fist around the base of Patrick’s erection, but he doesn’t move his hand. He just drags his thumb along Patrick’s shaft, causing him to shiver. Pete loves to tease Patrick, always has. And Patrick loves that he loves to. He’s clumsy with Pete’s jeans, but eventually he undoes the button and fly, and he pushes the jeans past Pete’s hips. Pete’s not wearing underwear. This only makes Patrick want it more.  
  
“Holy fuck, Pete,” Patrick breathes, the sight of Pete’s erection combined with the gentle circles Pete’s making on his cock driving him wild. “Fuck, I can’t wait anymore, I want you.”  
  
“When don’t you?” Pete whispers, a cocky grin playing on his lips. This actually makes Patrick a little angry, but then Pete’s mouth is back on his and he’s finally, _finally_ working Patrick, so slow his stomach churns, and Patrick wraps his arms around Pete’s shoulders and drags his fingernails down his back. Pete hisses into their kiss and his back arches a little, and Patrick knows he’s getting a rise out of Pete.  
  
“Jesus, Patrick, I want you so fucking bad,” Pete says, his lips still on Patrick’s, and Patrick knows that Pete’s trying to compete. Pete hates finishing first, loves the power that comes with making someone come, and now he’s going to start playing the game. This is where the night will change. It’s not just sex anymore, it’s a power play.  
  
Patrick plays along as best he can. He responds by moaning deeply onto Pete’s lips and dragging his teeth along Pete’s tongue. He grips Pete’s waist tightly, his fingernails digging into Pete’s skin. Pete grips Patrick’s cock harder and works him roughly. He pulls away from the kiss, and just as Patrick catches his breath, Pete bites Patrick’s lower lip, tugging at it hard. Patrick moans again, and he can’t tell if it’s from pain or pleasure, but that’s just how it is with Pete sometimes.  
  
Pete smiles again, then moves his lips to Patrick’s jawline. He works his way down, leaving kisses or bites along Patrick’s neck, his shoulder, his ribs, his stomach, his hips, and eventually he reaches his destination. He tongues the tip of Patrick’s now leaking cock, and it takes everything Patrick has not to groan, not to give Pete any satisfaction. He does tangle his fingers in Pete’s hair and pull, which causes Pete to moan lightly on Patrick’s cock. Patrick bucks his hips again, pushing his way into Pete’s mouth. Pete looks up and grins at Patrick. In the dark, Pete looks a little scary, a mischievous grin on his face and his pupils dilated so much his eyes look black.  
  
“You want to, baby?” Pete says, and Patrick could punch him because Pete knows how much he hates being called “baby”, especially in bed. He knows Pete’s trying to get a rise out of him, knows he wants it rough. Patrick really doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.  
  
“Fuck my mouth, come on love, you know you want to.” And Pete puts his mouth on the tip of Patrick’s cock. And waits.  
  
Patrick lets the anger boil inside him for just a second. Fuck Pete for calling him “love”. Fuck Pete for not meaning it. Fuck Pete for doing this, then screwing some other guy tomorrow. Fine. Pete wants it rough, he’ll get it.  
  
Patrick thrusts his hips roughly, forcing Pete’s mouth to open wider. He immediately pushes in as deep as he can go, Pete making a surprised gagging sound that would be totally disgusting if it wasn’t Patrick who caused it. Patrick thrusts in again, hitting the same spot on the back of Pete’s throat, but Pete doesn’t make the noise again. Instead, he hollows out his cheeks and sucks as he pulls his head up, letting Patrick out of his mouth with a small “pop”.  
  
“That’s good enough, isn’t it?” Pete asks, his voice dripping honey. Patrick is not amused.  
  
“No, fuck that,” Patrick says and grabs the back of Pete’s head and forces him back onto Patrick’s cock. At this point, Patrick doesn’t care about finishing first. He cares about the feeling in his stomach, the pain radiating from his dick, the sweat glistening on Pete’s back. He cares about wrecking Pete’s throat, ruining that beautiful voice of his. So he pushes himself into Pete’s mouth again, his fingers knotting in Pete’s hair, pulling it slightly.  
  
Pete doesn’t make much noise, and Patrick only thrusts harder, faster, but Pete just takes it. He gags sometimes, but other than that he’s a natural, which doesn’t surprise Patrick. Patrick feels Pete’s hands on his thighs, but his eyes are closed, he’s focusing only on finishing, on making Pete choke.  
  
Those thoughts go out the window when Pete digs his fingers into Patrick’s thigh, causing sharp shots of pain that make Patrick’s mind go blank. He responds by fucking Pete’s mouth as hard as he can, his eyes still shut. And then he feels Pete’s finger inside him.  
  
It’s dry and it’s been a while so it hurts just a little, especially when Pete pulls it out slowly and then twists it harshly back in. Patrick can’t take it. He opens his eyes but he notices that he’s seeing stars, completely overwhelmed by Pete’s mouth and fingers. He rams his hips into Pete’s mouth a few more times, but his movements are jerky, and he can feel his orgasm building in his stomach but he really doesn’t want to end this.  
  
But he can’t hold on anymore. He comes heavily into Pete’s mouth, and Pete swallows like an expert (hell, he is an expert). He pulls his finger out of Patrick and removes his hand from Patrick’s thigh. Patrick looks down. He’s bleeding.  
  
Pete whispers something about not being able to wait, and he spreads Patrick’s legs quickly and forces himself in, and oh god it just hurts so much, it’s been too long, why couldn’t he wait the two extra seconds to put on lube? Patrick groans, this time definitely from pain, but Pete doesn’t seem to understand. He wraps his hands around Patrick’s wrists and adjusts his angle slightly, and then thrusts hard into Patrick. After a few seconds the pain dulls, and something about being pinned to the bed and Pete, thick and hard, pushing himself in deeply, along with the rhythm of the headboard banging against the wall, drives Patrick crazy all over again. The groans turn into whimpers, and Pete smiles down at him, his grip tightening on Patrick’s wrists as he gets closer. After only a few minutes, Pete thrusts as deeply as he can and comes inside Patrick, a feeling so perfect that Patrick can’t even describe it.  
  
Pete pulls out and collapses next to Patrick. “God, Trick, you’re so hot,” he whispers, his voice broken and strained. Patrick just smiles. He’d rather be called beautiful, but that’s not Pete’s style. And anyway, he’s suddenly so tired.  
  
“Can I stay here tonight?” Pete asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer.  
  
“Of course,” Patrick whispers, turning on his side to face Pete. His eyes close as Pete snakes an arm around his waist. This is probably the best part of the night, when everything’s quiet and Patrick can pretend that all of this is normal.  
  
He falls asleep with Pete’s name on his lips.  
  
Pete shakes him awake the next morning, says he’s going to eat, and leaves after throwing on last night’s clothes and kissing Patrick on the forehead. When Pete leaves, Patrick does what he always does after nights like that: he goes to the bathroom to inspect himself.  
  
He stands in front of the full length mirror and stares. It’s definitely not the worst it’s ever been, but it’s pretty damn bad. He counts nine bruises on his chest, he has two light hickeys on his jaw, and his wrists are blue and purple. His thigh is the worst. He has five small cuts, all of which are red and raised and gruesome-looking. There’s a small amount of dried blood around the cuts, which he cleans off. Then he realizes that his lip started bleeding at some point last night. Blood is caked along his lower lip, which is swollen. He sighs and cleans it up, but it doesn’t make anything look much better. He looks like he was in a fight. That’s probably what he’ll tell people.  
  
As he gets into the shower, he assesses his situation for the millionth time. This has been going on for about eight years. Patrick was really surprised when Pete first came onto him. Pete was always hot and charming, but he was also five years older and when all of this started, Patrick was just barely legal. The first night Pete kissed him, Patrick obviously went along with it, because who wouldn’t go along with kissing Pete Wentz? It took a while for them to get to actual sex (because of Patrick’s age and the fact that neither of them wanted their sexualities to leak to the press), but then one night, after a year or so of makeout sessions and sleeping in the same bed when the bus got cold, they drunkenly hooked up in a bar bathroom. Even though they were trashed, Patrick still remembers every detail. It wasn’t Patrick’s first time by a long shot, but it was definitely the best. That was the night when Patrick knew he was in love with Pete. He waited about a week before he got up the courage to say it, but the day he planned on it, Pete started talking to him in great detail about how he’d fucked some guy named Ryan the night before. Patrick, of course, was devastated. He thought it was done between them, that Pete’s graphic retelling of his wild night with some random guitarist was his way of breaking up with Patrick. After all, Pete was great at writing songs, but when it came to Patrick, he'd never been that good with words.  
  
But later that night, Pete climbed into Patrick’s bunk and gave him the best blowjob of his life. And the night after, they had sex again, totally sober. That was when Pete started marking Patrick up. They talked about being committed after, but Pete said he never liked commitment. It ruined good situations. He really liked Patrick, wasn’t that enough? And Patrick supposed that it was.  
  
Patrick was the only person that Pete repeatedly came back to, but that didn’t mean that Pete didn’t get around. It was the worst around the time that Infinity on High dropped. That was when everyone on the label got close, and no one on the label was off-limits. Not even Pete, even though everyone knew about his and Patrick’s pseudo relationship. Sexuality was really open, sex meant nothing, and everyone was fucking whoever they could. Everyone but Patrick. In the past eight years, Pete’s had sex with countless guys. Patrick’s had sex with one.  
  
Patrick aches everywhere, and as these thoughts rush through his head, he gets a headache too. He loves Pete, but he hates the situation. During the hiatus, Patrick thought maybe things would change. They didn’t. And he’s tired. He’s older than he used to be, and so is Pete. If Pete wants to act like kid, fine. But Patrick really doesn’t want to. He gets out of the shower and puts on loose clothes to avoid any of his injuries hurting more. They have a two-week break before the end of their tour. Patrick won’t call Pete during the break. It’s just too much. He needs to sort everything out.  
  
He loves Pete. But maybe love isn’t enough.  
  
**  
  
Chicago is fucking hot. Patrick hates summer. It doesn’t work for his preferred cardigan and tight jeans ensemble. Why he wore it today, he doesn’t know.  
  
He sips his coffee and waits for William. He’s been excited for today for about a week, ever since he called William and asked him if he wanted to meet up. Bill obviously agreed. It’s been years since they’ve seen each other. And Patrick thinks Bill may have had a thing for him way back when.  
  
Bill enters the coffee shop and immediately spots Patrick. They exchange hellos and hugs and Bill says “You look so good, you’ve lost so much weight!” Patrick blushes and thanks him. They sit and talk for a while. Patrick’s surprised at how good William looks. He’s still tall and stick-thin, but not really bones-jutting-out, I’m-scared-for-you skinny. He’s very talkative and animated, and his laugh is contagious. He’s warm. Patrick feels his heart melt a little, a feeling he’s missed.  
  
They walk around Chicago, swapping tour stories and stories about what great times they used to have in Chicago, all day. Patrick almost forgets about Pete, who he hasn’t talked to in a week. It’s fun, and being with Bill is less stressful than being with Pete. So when Bill invites him to his apartment, Patrick agrees.  
  
They watch some obscure movie that Patrick’s never heard of. They don’t pay much attention. They drink wine and reminisce about the good ol’ days. Bill’s hand keeps brushing against Patrick’s knee. Patrick doesn’t mind.  
  
“So,” Bill says, looking Patrick in the eye, “what’s up with you and Pete?”  
  
“Nothing,” Patrick replies, a bit taken aback. “I mean, we’re not, like, together or anything right now.”  
  
“Is that permanent? Pete’s been calling everyone, complaining about how you broke up with him and he doesn’t know how to go on.”  
  
Patrick groans inwardly. He didn’t come back to Bill’s apartment to talk about Pete. Actually, it was the complete opposite. On the other hand, it’s nice that Pete cares so much. But he probably just wasn’t getting any.  
  
Patrick shrugs. “I mean, for now nothing’s going on. I just want stability. He wants the complete opposite. He makes me tired.”  
  
“I hear ya,” Bill says. He pauses and then he clears his throat. “I’m actually glad to hear that you’re single,” he says.  
  
Patrick laughs, a bit bitterly. “I don’t think I was ever taken.”  
  
Bill doesn’t say anything. Patrick looks at him, and suddenly, Bill’s on top of him, kissing him fiercely. Patrick drops his wine glass, which lands with a thud on the carpet. After a shocked second, he kisses back.  
  
They stay like that for a while, Bill half on top of Patrick, their hands exploring each other, before Bill moves his hand up Patrick’s shirt. Patrick pulls away.  
  
“I mean, do you want to?” William asks softly. He’s not Pete, nowhere near Pete, but god, Patrick wants to. He nods.  
  
“Okay.” William starts unbuttoning his vest and loosening his tie as Patrick unbuttons his cardigan and pulls off his t-shirt. When they’re done taking their shirts off, they stare at each other.  
  
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Bill whispers, his fingers grazing Patrick’s torso.  
  
“Me too,” Patrick says, realizing that what he’s saying is true. His mind buzzes, wondering how many people he’s had feelings for, feelings that he suppressed because of Pete.  
  
Bill smiles before kissing Patrick again. The kiss is light, and Bills lips are soft, which comes as a pleasant surprise after years of Pete treating every instance of intimacy as a rough competition. Patrick likes kissing Bill. So he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing briefly against Bill’s as his hands run up Bill’s sides. He puts his hands on Bill’s neck, grateful to not have to dig into his skin with his fingernails. He lets Bill push him down on the sofa so that he’s laying down and Bill is laying on top of him, his hands resting on Patrick’s hips. Patrick takes in every moment, the way he can brush Bill’s shoulder blades with his fingertips without scratching them, the way Bill’s slightly parted lips press into Patrick’s neck without being followed by his teeth. The sigh that escapes Patrick’s lips is light, and there’s no question about this- the sounds he’s making are from pleasure.  
  
They continue to kiss, not just each other’s mouths but everywhere, exploring every inch of bare skin. Bill treats Patrick like he’s delicate, like he’s the most perfect being in the world. Patrick loves it, treats Bill the same way. As his lips touch Bill’s ribs, his wrists, his neck, he wonders why he never did this before, why the only sex he’s had in years has left him broken in more ways than one when there were people who wanted to treat him like this.  
  
Bill sits on Patrick’s thighs, his legs straddling Patrick’s, and takes Patrick’s hand in his own. “Is this good?” Bill asks, kissing Patrick’s palm.  
  
“It’s great.” Patrick smiles. It really is.  
  
“Good, I’m glad.” Bill hesitates. “You know, we don’t have to do anything else. You just broke up with Pete and I don’t know how far you wanna take things. Physically or… otherwise.”  
  
Patrick sighs. His smile disappears a little. “Bill, I like this. This is great. Can we not ruin it with a relationship conversation?”  
  
Bill smiles, but he looks a little sad. Patrick can’t stand the look in his eyes, and he really misses those lips, so he pulls Bill down to him and kisses him deeply. Bill kisses back, and soon they’re pulling each other’s jeans off, and oh god Patrick can’t wait for this, it’s gonna be so, so good.  
  
Bill pulls away to tug Patrick’s jeans and boxers all the way off, and as he looks at Patrick, he gasps a bit. Patrick almost asks what’s wrong, but then Bill places his fingers lightly on Patrick’s thigh, and Patrick knows.  
  
“Pete,” Patrick mumbles, looking down at the almost-healed cuts.  
  
“This wasn’t… He didn’t…”  
  
“No! God, no. It was consensual. It’s just… how he is, ya know. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing…” Patrick trails off, noticing Bill looking up and down Patrick’s body. He brushes his fingers along the bruises that haven’t quite healed. It makes Patrick a little uncomfortable, but the feeling of Bill’s fingers makes Patrick shudder. His erection is starting to ache, and he reaches for it, but Bill bats his hand away. Bill smiles and runs his thumb across Patrick’s cheekbone, then wraps his hand around Patrick’s cock.  
  
As he starts to work Patrick, all Patrick can think about is how different this is from anything he’s ever done. Everything is quiet, the movie still playing softly in the background. Bill isn’t hissing Patrick’s name, and the soft moans escaping his lips are beautiful, not harsh. The way Bill touches him is soft, tender. This is a complete 180 from Patrick’s usual experience.  
  
Bill uses his free hand to lace his fingers with Patrick’s. He places his forehead on Patrick’s collarbone and works Patrick quickly, his hand tight around Patrick. Patrick’s breathing becomes labored. He can feel himself getting close. He reaches for Bill’s erection, and now they’re working each other at the same time, Bill arching his back a little to give Patrick more room. Patrick kisses Bill’s forehead and whispers, “Bill, this is good, this is _so_ good.”  
  
Bill moans, his voice breaking a bit, as he comes across Patrick’s stomach. Patrick comes a second later, and Bill kisses him hard as their come mixes on Patrick’s torso.  
  
Patrick laughs when Bill pulls away. “I think we should clean up.”  
  
Bill nods and picks his undershirt up off of the floor. He uses it to clean himself and Patrick. He doesn’t make eye contact with Patrick as he places the shirt back on the floor and turns off the television.  
  
“Is everything okay?” Patrick asks.  
  
“I’m just embarrassed,” Bill says. “I mean, it took me like two seconds.”  
  
Patrick’s heart melts. “Oh god, I don’t care about that. I’m sure next time you’ll last much longer.”  
  
Bill looks at Patrick and smiles. “There’s going to be a next time?”  
  
Patrick considers the question. He knows he loves Pete. But won’t he always? He likes Bill, and it’s time to get out and experience other people. He can date, he can screw around. He hasn’t talked to Pete in a week, and Pete hasn’t called in the past two days. It’s over. There’s no better time to get out than now. So he nods. “If you want there to be.”  
  
Bill grins and throws himself into Patrick’s arms. Patrick laughs. This could be good.  
  
They don’t have sex. They decide that there’s plenty of time for that later. So they cuddle and talk all night, their clothes lying neglected on the floor, sharing the rest of the bottle of wine. There’s something juvenile about it, fooling around on the couch and cuddling up after, but it’s sweet. It’s normal. And the more they talk, the more Patrick falls for Bill’s voice and the drunken flush in his cheeks. It’s so much better than the crazy ride he went on with Pete. Midnight turns to one, then two, and Patrick’s tired. He tells Bill he should get going, but Bill holds him tight and tells him to sleep here. They kiss deeply as Patrick’s eyes close. He falls asleep with Bill’s arms wrapped around him.  
  
The next few days, Patrick and Bill barely leave his apartment. Patrick goes home to get some clothes, but he doesn’t use them all. If Bill has anything to say about it, neither of them wear many clothes at all. Patrick doesn’t mind, really. Especially because Bill calls him beautiful every chance he gets and treats sex like it’s something special. Bill and Patrick watch movies and cook together, which is something that he and Pete used to do, but Pete never used to stay up and talk all night with Patrick like Bill does. He never kissed him every possible second. He never seemed as interested in Patrick’s life. It’s only been a few days, but there’s already a sense of commitment, an emotional intimacy that Patrick really likes, one he’s never known. He tries to ignore the fact that when he’s alone, or when Bill is already asleep, snoring lightly on Patrick’s chest, his thoughts always wander back to Pete. But it’s okay. Pete hasn’t called in days. Everything’s over.  
  
And then Patrick has to go back on tour.  
  
**  
  
The flight to LA is lonely. Bill had driven him to O’Hare. They said their goodbyes in the car, promised to call at least every few days, and Bill said he’d go to a show. Then they shared a long kiss goodbye. Bill wished him luck. They hadn’t said what they were going to do when the tour was over, and Patrick knows Bill is afraid of what’s going to happen when Patrick sees Pete. And frankly, so is Patrick.  
  
Which isn’t to say that Patrick doesn’t love being with Bill. He does. But something tells Patrick that it was just a fling, some weird way to fulfill wishes that were made years ago. And he still loves Pete. That hasn’t changed. But he would like to try things out with Bill, because the last few days were so perfect…  
  
His thoughts stay on Bill and Pete for the whole flight, and by the time he lands in LA his confliction has left him tired and irritable. He turns on his phone while waiting in line for a coffee. The first thing he sees is a text from Bill.  
  
 _Hope your flight was ok! Miss you already. xoxo_  
  
Patrick smiles, texts a quick _Miss you too, talk to ya later!_ and orders his coffee on cloud nine. There’s something about Bill that makes him feel so blissfully happy. He feels like a kid again, flirting with Bill like this.  
  
Then his phone buzzes again. It’s Pete. Patrick’s bubble bursts.  
  
 _Hey, haven’t talked to you in a while- hope everything was good this week. We’re outside waiting for you. Miss you.  
  
_ Patrick doesn’t respond, but his heart swells at the thought of Pete missing him. He tries to shake it as he walks to the bus, but he can’t.  
  
He gets on the bus after everyone else. Andy is in his bunk, playing some game on his cell phone. Pete and Joe are playing a racing game on the Xbox. Patrick’s heart skips a beat at the sight of the back of Pete’s head. Oh no.  
  
Joe looks back and sees Patrick. “Hey, Patty Boy!” he yells, smiling, always the peppy one in the group.  
  
Patrick rolls his eyes, but he smiles anyway. He did miss his band. “Hi, Joe.”  
  
Pete turns around and smiles brightly at Patrick, but there’s something weird about his expression. It looks… strained, stressed. “Hey, Trick, long time no talk.”  
  
“Hi, Pete.”  
  
Tension is building in the bus already. This was not something that Patrick missed, the constant struggle of the entire band to figure out where Pete and Patrick stand.  
  
“Where’ve you been?” Pete asks, his voice still a bit strained. “We were both in Chicago, I’m surprised we didn’t hang out. We usually do.”  
  
Patrick is going to say something about how he was just hanging out at home, or he had things to take care of, or we were on a break, you asshole, I was avoiding you, but Joe speaks first.  
  
“Oh, he was at Bill’s house allllll week, weren’t you, Patrick?”  
  
“Bill… Beckett?” Pete asks, and his voice sounds broken, defeated, full of heartbreak that Patrick didn’t know Pete could feel. It breaks Patrick’s heart, and he gives Joe a _shut the fuck up so help me god_ look, but Joe doesn’t get it.  
  
“Oh yeah, Bill texted me about it. He and Patrick shacked up while we were on our break,” he says, poking fun at Pete. Of course this would happen. So Joe probably told Andy, meaning the only person in the band who didn’t know that Patrick had moved on was Pete.  
  
“Trick?” Pete whimpers, and oh god he’s actually tearing up. Patrick’s torn between shouting at Pete that he’s being so hypocritical and folding him in his arms and whispering that it’s okay, it won’t happen again. He can’t decide what to do, but he hates the look on Pete’s face, so he just goes to his bunk. After a few minutes, he falls asleep.  
  
He wakes up when the bus stops. He sits up and stretches before leaving the bus without trying to look for Pete or anyone else.  
  
After finding the dressing rooms and talking to security, Patrick does what he loves the most- he walks onstage. It’s quiet now, empty, except for the swarm of people setting up the instruments. Patrick sits on the stage and lets his legs swing off the end. If zen exists, this is it for Patrick. He can center himself for the show, before the craze of sound checks and opening acts. This is just Patrick and the venue.  
  
And, of course, Pete.  
  
Patrick almost doesn’t notice Pete sit down next to him. And then Pete says, his voice biting, “You left your phone on the bus.”  
  
Patrick takes his phone silently. He looks at the screen. Three texts from Bill, all wishing him luck and gushing about how great he is. “You read these.” Patrick says. It’s a statement, not a question.  
  
“Actually, yeah, I did,” Pete says. “Mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”  
  
“You’ve spent the last eight years fucking anyone that moves,” Patrick says, his anger boiling over, “while I’ve been alone trying to make this work. So really, Pete, you don’t have a right to question what I’m doing with Bill.”  
  
“I can ask you what’s going on. Over the past eight years I haven’t hidden anything from you, I’ve told you everything that’s going on…”  
  
“Yeah, well I didn’t ask to know!” Patrick yells, standing up. He's vaguely aware that the crew is staring at him, but he doesn’t care. “And don’t come at me with any ‘we should be open with each other’ bullshit, because that’s something that you get to say if you’re in a relationship. And that’s not what this is.”  
  
Before Pete can say anything, Patrick gets up and walks toward the wings of the stage, hoping to end the argument. But Pete calls out to him.  
  
“Trick. I- I don’t know what to say. I just want everything to go back to the way it was. I want you. I want this to be normal.”  
  
“This isn’t normal!” Patrick yells, whirling around to look at Pete, and god, he’s so beautiful, but Patrick can’t do this anymore. “Fucking me for eight years without being committed isn’t normal. You should want us to be together by now. We’re not twenty anymore. You either commit or you don’t. I want to commit to somebody.”  
  
“Are you breaking up with me?”  
  
“We were never together to begin with,” Patrick sighs. Pete’s face falls, and for the first time in years, Patrick sees real heartbreak in Pete’s eyes. He sees Pete’s eyes start to water, and he can feel his eyes watering, too. But he knows that what he’s saying is true. He and Pete were never together. Which, of course, didn’t make this feel any better. It still feels like a breakup. And Patrick needs to get the hell out of here.  
  
He stalks out to the bus, but doesn’t get on it. He doesn’t want to see anyone. Now that he’s around Pete, the text messages from Bill seem silly and childish. But then, Pete is silly and childish. Honestly, Patrick misses Pete already, misses the opportunity for them to be together, misses the possibility for them to be together forever. He loves Pete, that won’t ever change. But Pete won’t change either.  
  
He tries to shake all of his thoughts and looks for water to relieve the lump forming in his throat. He can’t even reread the messages Bill sent him. Now that he’s around Pete, Patrick doesn’t want anything to do with anyone else. Once he’s sure Andy and Joe aren’t on the bus, he takes his guitar to his bunk and picks aimlessly until he has to go to sound check and the show.  
  
The show, of course, is crap. Patrick can see the reviews tomorrow, criticizing Patrick for taking two weeks off of singing, making assumptions about why the chemistry of the band was so off, blaming illness for Pete’s lack of movement onstage. Patrick’s not happy with how it went. But in the Holiday Inn room he has after the show, he doesn’t care. He just wants to sleep for days. Bill’s called him three times and he hasn’t answered. At this point, he wants to throw the phone at the wall. He lays in bed, mindlessly watching television, thinking about how different the night would be if he just stayed with Pete. His thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door.  
  
Confused, Patrick opens it to find… Pete. He’s in a hoodie and tight jeans, but that’s not what Patrick notices. Patrick notices the huge bouquet of flowers and the Saw DVD that are in Pete’s hands. “What… is this?” he asks.  
  
“Listen, Trick, I really don’t want to lose you. It’s a lot to explain so can you just… let me in?” Pete asks, seeming a little embarrassed. Patrick’s heart melts a little bit, but he’s still mad. So he lets Pete in without saying anything and closes the door. Pete stands in the middle of the room and Patrick stays by the door, ready to open it and let Pete out if he makes an ass of himself.  
  
“I don’t know why I’ve been like this all these years,” Pete starts. “I mean, why I haven’t just stopped fucking other people, why I’ve strung you along, why I haven’t just treated this like what it was: a relationship. I want to be in a relationship with you, Patrick. I’ve never said that to anyone before. I don’t know why I waited so long to say that to you.”  
  
Patrick’s silent, not out of anger, but surprise. His mouth goes dry and his heart races. This is a dream, it has to be. Pete’s never been sentimental to anyone.  
  
Pete continues. “I know I’m not the most emotional person, and I know that after the hiatus it probably stopped seeming like anything other than sex. I’m so sorry for that. Touring again and having to get in the swing of things has been really tough. I’ve been using you as a kind of stress relief and I’m sorry for that, too. I didn’t mean to, I just know that I can come to you and be whatever I need to be and you’ll accept me no matter what. I used you for a while. I know I did. I know I do a lot, and I hate it. I liked when we were on hiatus and we could do whatever we wanted. It was a good few years. I just don’t know how to show you how much I appreciate them.”  
  
Pete stops again. He puts the flowers and DVD down on the bed and sits at the foot of it. He covers his face and Patrick becomes very aware that Pete’s crying. Which makes Patrick nervous. Pete has cried maybe three times since they’ve been in the band. He slowly walks over to Pete, sits next to him, and puts an arm around his shoulders. Pete responds by crying harder and leaning into Patrick, using his shoulder as a tissue.  
  
“But please, please, don’t go back to Bill,” Pete says between sobs. “I’m sure he’s great for you and you have a lot of fun, and I’m sure he likes you a lot, but I don’t know what I’d do without you, Trick. I need you. Seeing those texts killed me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, Trick, I love you.”  
  
Pete is still crying on Patrick’s shoulder. The bed is still too stiff. The TV is still buzzing with some late news report. Everything is the same. But somehow, everything is brighter, more alive with energy, happier. Or maybe that’s just Patrick.  
  
Patrick doesn’t care which it is. He lifts Pete’s head off of his shoulder, cups his jaw with his hands, and kisses him hard. It’s beautiful, the familiar taste of chapstick and mint toothpaste mixed with the salt of the tears Pete didn’t have time to wipe away. Pete wraps his arms around Patrick and holds tight, a little too tight, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s not a power play. Actually, Patrick realizes as Pete falls back onto the bed and pulls Patrick on top of him, it’s the complete opposite. It’s desperate and needy and heartbroken. Patrick just runs his fingers lightly through Pete’s hair, trying to comfort him.  
  
Pete pulls away. “I love you, Trick. I have for so long and I was so scared. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  
  
Patrick kisses his cheek, trying and failing to stop the tears that are now forming in his own eyes. “Shh, Pete. It’s fine, I love you too. I love you.”  
  
Pete kisses Patrick again, deep and desperate, and begins pushing Patrick’s tee shirt above his head. Patrick lets him, and then unzips Pete’s hoodie, happily surprised to find that Pete’s not wearing a shirt underneath. Pete pushes the flowers and DVD off the bed. As they land with a soft thump on the ground, Pete climbs on top of Patrick, looking desperate in a way that Patrick hasn’t ever seen before. As Pete starts working on the zipper of Patrick’s jeans, Patrick realizes that this is the first time they’ve had sex after a fight. He likes this side of Pete, trying to make up for everything and wanting Patrick this much. He bucks his hips to help Pete pull the jeans off. Then he watches as Pete kicks off his shoes and tugs on his jeans.  
  
When they’re both naked and really, really hard, Pete smiles down at Patrick and kisses a line from his chest down his stomach to just above his erection. Patrick groans softly. Pete obviously hasn’t lost his ability to be a huge tease.  
  
Pete waits a few seconds before taking Patrick completely into his mouth. Patrick moans and bucks his hips, but Pete doesn’t do anything else. He pulls off and begins to kiss back up Patrick’s torso, stopping at Patrick’s jawline. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbles onto Patrick’s skin, and Patrick gets goose bumps. He sighs lightly, and Pete hovers over him, looking down at him with a piercing gaze. “I hope you know that, and I don’t want any other guy to tell you, ever.”  
  
Patrick responds by kissing Pete desperately, mostly because there’s nothing he can say. It’s like a dream’s coming true, and he doesn’t want to ruin it. He just wants to have Pete this way, just once, and if they wake up in the morning and Pete says he doesn’t want to do this, it’s okay.  
  
Pete grinds his hips onto Patrick’s, their mouths still connected, and Patrick moans. Pete pulls away, his lips swollen and wet and so irresistible, and whispers, “Patrick, will you... please, Trick.”  
  
Patrick is silent for a second. He knows what Pete wants, but he needs to process it. This is the first time Pete has wanted this, or at least it’s the first time he’s asked. Finally, Patrick breathes, “Lay down.”  
  
Pete does what Patrick tells him and Patrick very slowly climbs on top of him. It all seems unreal, like if he makes a sudden movement, Pete will back out or say he was kidding or something. Patrick looks at Pete for a long time, just because he can. He grazes the palm of his hand from Pete’s shoulder down his torso to his hip, feeling every inch of skin like it’s something new. Finally, after an agonizing few moments, he spreads Pete’s legs and positions himself. He stops again, taking in the image of him being on top, of his cock this close to Pete, only centimeters away from entering him. The room is so quiet he can hear the lights hum and Pete’s heavy breaths.  
  
“Trick,” Pete whines, gripping his own erection, which is leaking. “Please.”  
  
Patrick does like hearing Pete beg.  
  
He reaches over Pete into the nightstand drawer for the lube he put there in case he needed it for himself tonight. He slathers it on and pushes in, slowly, because he’s not sure if Pete has ever bottomed.  
  
The obscene strangled noise that comes out of Pete’s mouth, in addition to the way his face screws up, tells Patrick that this is, in fact, the first time Pete’s ever been in this position. He tries to thrust slowly, but Pete is so goddamn beautiful and he’s so tight and Patrick is going crazy with how good this is. He can barely breathe “Are you good?”  
  
Pete opens his eyes, which are dark, his pupils dilated more than Patrick can remember them ever being. “It hurts, but it feels good,” he says, his voice catching. “If that makes sense.”  
  
Patrick nods. He’s spent eight years feeling like that. He pulls out almost all the way, and then pushes in hard, as far as he can go. It wins another yelp from Pete, which is enough for Patrick to do it again, and again, until Pete stops yelling and starts sighing.  
  
Patrick takes Pete’s hand in his and interlaces their fingers on the bed as he continues fucking Pete as hard as he can, loving how great it feels to be inside of him, to have him like this, a heap below him that can barely keep his eyes open. He pushes until his hips are tired, then goes some more, always coaxed by the sounds coming from Pete. He can’t stop looking at them together, seeing himself disappear inside Pete over and over again, and hearing Pete’s strangled “Fuck yes”s and “ _Shit_ , like that, just like that”s. Patrick could honestly finish at any time. It’s taking everything he has to keep going and not collapse on top of Pete, but he has to do this as long as possible. He’s going to get as much out of this as he can. He notices Pete’s eyes are squeezed shut.  
  
“Hey,” he whispers, going faster. “Pete, are you with me? Are you okay?”  
  
Pete’s eyes flutter open. “I’m here, I’m okay. God, this is good. Fuck, Trick, _fuck_ …” his breathing hitches as he begins to work himself. Patrick uses the image to adjust his angle just enough to thrust hard and hit the one spot that he knows will make Pete scream.  
  
And good god, does Pete scream. His nails dig into Patrick hand and his eyes widen, but he never breaks eye contact, and when he has his breath back he whispers, “Again.”  
  
So Patrick does. He moves hard and fast, pushing into Pete with everything he has. Pete works himself, his movements jilted and awkward. Watching Pete touch himself only makes Patrick more turned on, so he increases his speed as much as he can. Pete whimpers, “Shit, Trick, I’m so close, oh _fuck_ , don’t stop, I love this, I love you,” and then he’s a goner. He comes everywhere, groaning Patrick’s name. His hand is sticky, but he uses it to pull Patrick in for a kiss anyway. Patrick kisses him hard, feeling teeth clash, and he makes a few more clumsy movements before coming into Pete, feeling the orgasm in every atom of his body, his skin burning where it’s touching Pete’s.  
  
He pulls out and collapses next to Pete. For a while they lay there, dirty, catching their breath. Then Pete whispers, barely audible, “So that’s what making love feels like.”  
  
Patrick’s not sure if he was supposed to hear that, so he doesn’t say anything about it. He just rolls over and kisses Pete as deeply as possible. He feels bad about Bill, but he knows that this is where he belongs. He belongs in Pete’s arms, and if Pete can recognize that, there’s no going back.  
  
When they pull apart, Pete says, “That was... different. I liked it. Let's do that again."  
  
Patrick smiles. "What, you mean have sex like normal people without trying to kill each other?"  
  
"Yeah, that. I mean, I'm still gonna be all over you. That's never gonna change, even when I'm 100."  
  
Patrick laughs. He loves this. Pete has never said things like this before.  
  
"I don't know if this is werid to say, but I've never had sex-I've never made love like that with anyone but you," Pete says. "I've never been especially rough with anybody but you either. I guess I just had really boring sex with other people."  
  
Patrick smiles again, noticing that Pete used the word _had_ instead of  _have_. "Well, now you don't have to."   
  
"Now I don't," Pete agrees hapily. "I brought Saw. Wanna watch?”  
  
“I hate scary movies.”  
  
“I’ll protect you!” Pete says dramatically, jumping off the bed to put the DVD in. While the opening credits are rolling, he grabs a towel and cleans everything up and then crawls back into bed, getting under the covers and pulling them down for Patrick.  
  
The movie is disgusting. Pete, of course, loves it. He always has. Ever since…  
  
“This was the first movie we watched together as a couple, like, centuries ago,” Pete says, echoing Patrick’s thoughts. “I mean, I don’t know if we were a couple then, but we are now, so it’s still the first movie we watched together as a couple.”  
  
“What a story for the kids,” Patrick deadpans.  
  
“Kids?” Pete asks, alarmed but not upset. “Are we already having this talk?”  
  
“Pete, after all the shit we've gone through in the past decade, I think we’re at the joking-about-kids phase.”  
  
“Maybe we should talk about marriage first.” Pete’s tone is light, but Patrick knows he’s serious.  
  
“Do you want to talk about this now?” Patrick is perfectly willing to talk about this now.  
  
“We don’t have to. But I can’t lose you again, Trick. I just… can’t.” Pete doesn’t look at Patrick, but he curls into Patrick’s side. Patrick wraps himself around Pete and Pete whispers, "I love you so much.”  
  
“I love you too,” Patrick replies, and then he kisses Pete, because he can, because Pete’s his boyfriend and they made love and they’re talking about marriage. This is all he ever wanted. He’s just getting it a little late.  
  
They talk all night. Just talk. There’s nothing physical, nothing passive aggressive, nothing hurtful. And if this is the rest of Patrick’s life with Pete, then it was worth leaving him to find it.  
  
As they fall asleep tangled together, Patrick vaguely thinks that he needs to call Bill. But then Pete mumbles, “Goodnight, I love you” onto his chest, and Patrick whispers “I love you too,” thinking that that phone call can wait till morning.


End file.
